


Foils & Fairy Tales

by Socket



Category: The Witches - Roald Dahl
Genre: Gen, Roald Dahl - Freeform, The Film, The Witches - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socket/pseuds/Socket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grandma had met the Grand High Witch before, in her youth, this is the story of how she lost her thumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foils & Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I’ve had a fascination with the relationship between the Grand High Witch and Grandma since I was a child, I don't know why; I'm weird like that. This fic is not a commentary on Wicca or Paganism - it's set purely in the world of Witches that Roald Dahl created (where Witches are evil and that's all there is to it).

No one believed me, so I stopped telling the story. I turned my mind to the practical - doing something effective instead of warning people who wouldn’t listen. 

I became a witchophile at a young age; the fate of my friend Olga at the hands of a witch gave me early insight. It has obsessed me since: the need to find the Grand High Witch and stop her. 

I knew I had my work cut out for me. She had no permanent residence: travelling as she did from country to country holding meetings for her minions, encouraging them to lessen the population of children. 

I set out, little money and little experience of the world – my parents thought I was touched, I had to lie to them, pretended I was past all this ‘witch nonsense’ otherwise they wouldn’t have let me go. It wasn’t difficult, pretending. Most of my friends stayed away now, fearful that I might infect them with my fairytale madness. 

In secret I collected clippings, children missing under mysterious circumstances. I had a map of the world on my wall and would mark places where repeated disappearances occurred. When anyone asked what the pins were for, I told them they were tourist hotspots that I intended to travel to. 

I made friends with other witchophiles, we exchanged information and sent each other updates. For Witches, despite their devious nature, are creatures of habit. They cannot go long without surfacing and trying to take a child. This is their weakness. 

In the summer of 1952 I had gathered enough information to guess her whereabouts in several European cities. I was twenty-six and decided that now was my time to seek her out. I packed my bags, left my family behind, what remained of my friends and Daniel, my fiancé. 

I arrived in Calais and got a job as a waitress in a restaurant. Slowly, I worked my way across Europe, following clues that led to the Grand High Witch. It wasn't until Italy that I had my first big break. 

I got a tip from a reliable source that the annual Witches meeting was taking place in Piacenza. I arrived in town two days before the alleged meeting; I needed to get my bearings. I soon realised that I had been given an accurate report – the streets were littered with women wearing sensible shoes, purple tinted eyes, gloved hands and itchy heads. 

I locked myself in my apartment and tried to mastermind a plan. For all my foresight and determination I had yet to come up with a plan to destroy the Grand High Witch. It made me nervous, knowing she was close by. She may even be in this hotel… in the room next to mine… I may have already passed her on the street, you never could be sure. I paced my room, thinking and scheming.

I realised that I would have to kill her; there was no alternative. The police could do nothing - there was no proof of what she had done to those children - hiding them in paintings and such - that was the skill of witches, no evidence remained to incriminate them. Prison was not an option, so I would have to kill her. 

I was terrified at the prospect; this was the hardest thing I'd ever have to do - but I'd do anything to rid the world of her evil. 

That evening, I walked the streets searching for witches in disguise; I followed them to a hotel, _La Pobiella,_ where there was a conference for the NSPCC. I loitered close to them but went undetected. I waited until they were all inside the conference room and pressed my ear to the door. 

I heard her voice: shrill and authoritative. A thick accent. It sent shivers down my spine. I heard her castigate them all for not doing their jobs properly and my anger swelled. 

When the meeting was done, I waited for them to leave. As they exited I saw a tall woman with long dark hair surround by adoring women and knew it was The Grand High Witch. When she finally spoke, it was the same rich accent I had heard dictating during the meeting and knew she was the one. She was who I needed to destroy. 

I took a seat in the hotel lobby and waited. Eventually The Grand High Witch approached the desk and I listened intently. 

“Any phone calls?” she asked the desk clerk. 

“Yes. Five, Miss Ernst,” the clerk replied, smiling tentatively and handed her several messages. 

She took them without a word, spun on her heel and started towards the elevator. I watched her enter the lift and took a deep breath. 

I walked up to the desk clerk. 

“Hello,” I greeted. 

He smiled. “Hello, welcome to _La Pobiella_ how can I help you, Miss?” 

I lean forward and lowered my voice. “I'm here to see Miss Ernst,” I said conspiratively. “I'm with the NSPCC, I have an appointment with her, but I can't for the life of me remember which room she's in.” 

The clerk is young, naive and a little too eager. Gingerly he revealed. “Room 2140.” 

“Thank you,” I said appreciatively. 

He nodded and smiled.

* * * * * * 

I knocked on the door of her room and there was a pause. 

“Who is it?” her voice called.

“Helga Mattson,” I replied knowing she wouldn't know my name. “I'm with the NSPCC, I'm one of your most devoted followers.” 

The door was flung open and she stood before me, dressed all in black, tall, intimidating and I felt the breath leave me. How did I ever think I could do this? Then I think of Olga and all the children suffering because of Miss Ernst. My courage returns and when she says, “What do you want?” I brush past her and into the room.

She turned and I heard her click her tongue in annoyance. 

“I have something for you,” I stated. 

She closed the door. “I don't recall seeing you before,” she said suspiciously. 

I turned to face her, I felt the handle of the knife tucked in my belt press into my skin. 

She is magnificent and repulsive at the same time. I loathe her but have sought her over time, sea and land. I’m afraid: because now I was facing her, my life’s quest was ending. 

I drew the knife and she stared at me, the purple glint in her eyes shone. “You are human,” she declared. 

“Yes,” I replied. 

“How did you find me?” 

“You took a friend of mine,” I explained. “And now, here I am.” 

She smiled sickeningly and I wanted to rip her mask off, reveal her true face. She seemed to read my mind. Her grin widened. “You want to take my humanity away so you can kill me,” she stated, moving slowly towards a large desk that sits in the centre of the room. 

I followed her with my eyes and despite myself, I shook. “You have no humanity,” I replied steadily. 

She tapped her fingernails against the table. “I have no humanity?” she laughed callously. The sound resonated and cooled my blood. “Where do you think we came from? Thin air? Out of a fairy tale?” 

I looked at her in puzzlement. “I don’t care – you must be stopped!” 

She looked away from me and almost sounded sad as she said. “Always hunted, never any peace. People’s prejudice turns to hate and we were outcasts - burnt alive, drowned – enslaved because of human bigotry.” 

I shook my head, I didn’t believe her, I couldn’t. Not after all that time, not after everything I knew she was capable of. “That’s irrelevant - you’re hunting down innocent children.” 

The Grand High Witch pulled herself to her full height and leveled my gaze. “We are equalling the score,” she shouted emotionally, the sentiment took me back and I realized that I was not prepared for this. 

“For every witch tortured, murdered, victimized – we take a child. Your ancestors persecuted us so we take our revenge on their decedents. You.” 

“That’s not fair!” I declared. 

“Fair?” she laughed again. “Your people commit mass slaughter and you dare talk of fair? Do you want to know the irony, the absurdity of it all? You’re the ones who created us.” 

I stared at her in amazement. “What?” 

Her expression was solemn. “You created us,” she repeated and gazed straight at me. She reached up and slowly pulled the mask from her face. Beneath was the vilest face I have ever seen. She threw the mask onto the desk, stretched and adjusted to being uninhibited by the disguise. 

“We are the result of your nightmares - the horrors of your mind… anything and everything that scared you in the night as a child, that made your skin turn to goosebumps, the hairs rise on the back of your neck, that is our origin. We are the manifestation of your deepest fears.” 

I took a step towards her, tired of this exchange. “You know why I’m here.” 

“Yes.” 

“I can’t feel sorry for you,” I said. “After everything I’ve seen you do. In the wake of misery you leave behind – misery you have no conscience of or remorse for.” 

“Why should I? What remorse have humans ever show us? Why should I pity the spiteful, greedy, selfish little…” she gulped back the disgust as she finished the sentence. “Children?” 

I took a tentative step towards her. I was close enough to see the scales of her skin, the purple gleam in her eye. 

“You are no better than I,” she said and smiled knowingly. 

I was amazed. “Of course I am!” I exclaimed. 

She shook her head. “You are the same as us, if not worse.” 

I was shocked. “How can you - ” 

“You have desensitised yourself to my pain in order to carry out the task of murdering me. You wish to see me as pure evil so that you can say you have done right by killing me.” 

I shook my head in confusion. “No!” 

“That’s what I do,” she confessed and I felt her voice seduce me. “When children plea for their lives just before I trap them in a painting, I pretend they have no feelings and no thought.” 

“We are not the same,” I hissed through clenched teeth and I am not sure if I am trying to convince her or myself. 

“We have a link, humans and witches. Creators and the created.” 

“You twist everything!” I accused. 

She shook her head. 

I waited for her to make a move but she did not and despite my better judgement, I felt myself becoming entranced by her. 

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Do what you came to do.” 

I took a step closer to her, clutching the knife tightly. I held her gaze and then lunged at her. Her reflexes were lightening sharp. She moved too quickly - I stabbed thin air. I spun round and swiped at her again but she caught hold of my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back. I cried out in pain and dropped the knife. She pushed me down against the desk top, then whispered haughtily in my ear. “Too slow.” 

I tried to escape her but my wriggling only made her clasp me tighter; her grip vice like - I never should have underestimated her strength. 

She laughed as I whimpered in pain. “Humans! You’re so predictable, so weak.” 

She clutched the knife and stabbed it into the desk by my head. I stared at it, shimmering in the light, and she leant forward again, brushed my hair aside with a gloved hand and warned. “You shouldn't play with knife's - they're dangerous.” 

She forced my left hand onto the desk and pulled the knife out of the wood. I saw her eyes - shimmering with malevolence and gasped with shock as she brought the knife down on my hand. 

My blood spilt and everything became blurred. Then I heard another voice, someone else had entered the room. The Grand High Witch's attention was momentarily distracted and her grip on me loosened. I tore away from her and bolted towards the door. I rushed past whoever had entered and ran down the hotel corridor, down the stairs and out of the hotel. I don't stop running. I know she is not chasing me but I can feel her watching me and I have to get away. 

When I arrive back at my apartment I look at my hand. The thumb on my left hand is gone. I grab a towel and wrap it tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding, then I hold my arm above my heart. I'm shaking and whimpering - I feel such a fool. What was I thinking? I couldn't take her on my own, I must have been insane! I wait until I calm down and then phone my Witchophile friends. Those nearby rush over to my apartment and after Oriana bandages me up and gives me a shot of something to help with the pain, then we go through an alternative strategy of attack. 

The following day we head back to _La Pobiella_ hotel; armed and ready. When we enter the lobby, the naïve clerk from earlier rushes over to me. 

“Miss Mattson?” he asks. 

I nodded, surprised that he knows my name. 

He held out a note to me. “Miss Ernst told me to give this to you when you returned.” 

I took the note. The clerk smiled obligingly and walked off. My friends gathered around me. 

“What does it say?” Oriana asked. 

I unfolded the note and in elegant handwriting were the words. “Too slow, old woman.” 

I scrunch the paper into a ball and marched up to the desk clerk. “When did she leave?” I asked. 

“Ten minutes ago,” he informed me. 

My heart sank. I had her cornered and had blown it. I felt an all-encompassing rage. I wanted to get her; I wanted to make her pay for all she had done. Oriana's hand touched my shoulder and I looked at my friend. 

“There'll be a next time,” she promised. 

And I believed her; I could feel it. Whatever was between The Grand High Witch and myself was unfinished. 

The following day I returned home to Norweigh. I married Daniel. We had a daughter and I filled my days with love and life and forgot about Miss Ernst. 

Until now.

Until she came so suddenly back into my life. I have only Luke to protect this time but I'm ready. I shall succeed where once I failed or I shall die trying.


End file.
